Wistful Thinking
by murphyaloysius
Summary: The happily ever after, except life doesn't really work that way. The story continues as Roy grapples with unresolved issues that nicely coincides with Ed's sudden disappearance and Ling's periodic psychotic breaks.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings**: This is the buildup, but I highly doubt it will ever turn into anything too explicit. My writing style simply isn't there yet.

**Disclaimer**: Obviously, the FMA world was not, is not, but potentially may be mine. Otherwise, I would not be pursuing a medical career, and instead would be revelling in my wonderful artistic talent.

**Note**: As an aspiring writer, criticism is, of course, welcome. Criticism that resembles an angry, irrational, and unfounded diatribe against the homosexual community among other topics are not. Unless they are funny.

**Summary: **The happily ever after, except life doesn't really work that way. The story continues as Roy grapples with unresolved issues that nicely coincides with Ed's sudden disappearance and Ling's periodic psychotic breaks. Undetermined eventual pairing (likely Roy/Ed, but Roy/Ling...eh...possible, but probable), but previous Ling/Ed and one-sided Roy/Ed.

**Chapter One:**

"Bastard Colonel" the blond man whispered against his throat.

Roy couldn't help but buck down; hips grinding deliciously as heat pooled and spread.

This moment had been so long and so impossible in coming that he had despaired. In a way, this victory tasted sweeter than when he had placed his hand upon a copy of the Amestris Constitution and was sworn into office. He had never imagined that this dream could ever be real. He allowed himself to savor the moment, poised above a flushed and wriggling blond.

Ed, impatient as always, snaked two flesh hands into short, black hair and tugged, effectively cutting off further thought and air.

They broke apart, gasping, even as Ed's hands wandered beneath the untucked, white dress shirt of Roy's uniform. Ed gazed up at him, gold eyes dark and heavy, and began to ring. Roy stared down, dumbstruck and slightly alarmed, but Edward continued with the damnably strident tones of his house phone.

Roy jerked his eyes open, not comprehending the pale moonlight streaking his bedroom ceiling. The phone fell silent as a car rushed by, headlights briefly illuminating the room with its abrupt glow.

The faintly luminescent hands of his alarm clock pointed to 4:15. No point in trying to sleep now, not that he could; the dream had left him achingly hard in all the wrong ways. His heart slowed its desperate thundering even as it punished him for remembering the paradox that was Edward Elric.

The phone rang again. Roy swore, then snatched a pair of gloves from the dresser before shuffling into his den.

"What," he growled irritably into his receiver. As Fuhrer, the private line to his house only received calls from the military, all of whom were his subordinates, or close friends, all of whom deserved to be growled at for calling at this ungodly hour and during a very pleasant wet dream to boot.

"I apologize sir," came Major Hawkeye's utterly unapologetic voice, "but Ling Yao has just arrived and insists upon meeting you."

Roy groaned. Ling. How he loathed that slanty eyed son-of-a-bitch.

Hawkeye's voice softened a bit, losing the razor's edge of pure professionalism. "Sir. He claims Edward is missing."

Damn her too, for being too kind and knowing. Roy's lips reflexively pulled back into a silent snarl as the last image he had of him, them, played itself into the unforgiving whiteness of his far wall. Ed laughing as he ducked away from Ling's embrace and into the car. Ling following, but immediately ambushed by an amused, beautiful Ed and pulled against a hard chest. He had closed the door, and stiffly wished them a happy trip, a happy life, with words that he no longer cared to remember. As Ed pulled away, he realized that it should have been, could have been, him in that car, speeding out of this life.

"...contact Alphonse." Hawkeye finished. A pause, then "Sir, are you even listening?"

Roy started. "I'm sorry, what?"

He felt more than heard her sigh over the phone. "We'll have to contact Alphonse. Although judging by the state of Ling, I doubt that Edward simply left the South."

"Right. Al. He'll be in a right state once he hears about his brother."

She chuckled, sounding more weary than he had heard her in years. "Maybe not as much as the Xing Embassy. They seem to be under the impression that the prince has been kidnapped. Al and Winry are at least used to Ed's disappearances."

He sighed. "Sounds like a diplomatic nightmare. Alright, I'll head out."

"Thank you sir."

xxx

The roads were dark, especially in the wealthy residential area that he inhabited. He hadn't wanted to move into the Fuhrer's mansion; even after a thorough cleaning, the taint of so many lost lives remained.

As he carefully navigated his way through the predawn gloom, he tried to ignore the faint hope blooming in his chest. Ed left. He left Ling. It was selfish of him to wish another to lose happiness, simply because he desired it for himself. But he couldn't help that small, insistent part of himself that saw the Fullmetal Alchemist within the circle of his arms.

xxx

The office was in chaos. Fuery held the phone a foot away from his ear as the tinny, enraged voice, reminiscent of Al in his armored days, shouted obscenities from several hundred miles away. One could almost see the wrenches flying. Off to the side, Hawkeye interrogated Lan Fan, who stoically replied in typical monosyllabic answers. A red faced dignitary, backed by a posse of fellow Xingese, lectured a pale and drawn Ling, who seemed not to hear a word with eyes shadowed and downcast.

Then it registered.

Ed had been happy, content, and living the life he had walked through hell for. That same life he would fight just a viciously for. It was not something he would ever willingly abandon. A cold frisson of fear tightened his empty stomach. No. I don't care if he is never mine. Just let him come back. Please. Roy didn't know what god he prayed to, he internally heard Ed's snort and the beginning of a tirade, but terror had snaked its insidious claws into the fracturing organ deep within his left chest cavity.

"Ed is strong. Believe in that." Havoc laid a comforting hand on Roy's shoulder, then raised the same hand in surrender and surprise when Roy whirled and raised gloved fingers in preparation to snap.

Roy winced at his inattention, and briefly wondered how his entire staff seemed to already know his...fixation with a certain short (another internal diatribe, this time with shouted obscenities) blond alchemist. He hoped his masks hadn't slipped that much from old age and complacency. Regardless. He gave Havoc a thin-lipped smile. "Oh, no. Simply wondering if I had the right to lecture Fullme-Edward for causing me to clean up his messes even after leaving the military."

Havoc looked at him blankly, and the Fuhrer sighed. Apparently, his smile and aggravated tone didn't fool the man. Damn. He really was slipping.

xxx

Ling stared blankly ahead, seemingly ignoring the other occupant in the room, while he continued woodenly, "found out about the marriage contracts already in place and left. He hasn't returned since."

"And when was this?" Roy wondered at the steadiness in his own voice. His stomach clenched, with hope tinged with fear. If Ling was already taken...

"About a week ago." Now rage. Ed had been gone a week. A week.

"I see. Is there a particular reason you waited a week before searching for him?"

"I had assumed that he...had left me, and either returned to Central or Risembol. It didn't occur to me that he hadn't voluntarily left. The circumstances were less than ideal." Ling had yet to tear his gaze away from wainscoting behind Roy's desk.

"That doesn't answer the question, your highness."

Ling's eyes jerked involuntarily at the steel in the Fuhrer's voice, his own strained as he answered, "I found his Flamel ring in a pawnshop. The one his brother gave him." The fear that had hovered at the edges of his consciousness came shrieking in.

"Even if..." Ling faltered, "even if he wanted nothing more to do with me, he would never willingly cut ties with his brother."

Roy was shocked to see pale tracks striping Ling's cheeks and shocked to see his own hand trembling as he offered a handkerchief.

xxx

The two flanking the heavy oaken door, nominally on guard, slumped bonelessly against the patterned wall.

Havoc broke the silence first. "Don't you think it's a bit odd?" he asked between puffs of smoke.

"What?" Fuery glanced over, a bit startled.

"Ling coming to Central. Last I had heard, they were down south somewhere, and suddenly, he shows up here demanding we send out search parties for the boss." Havoc slumped lower, then chewed contemplatively on his cigarette. "It seems contrived."

"Well, even if Ed doesn't want back in to the military, the Fuhrer's here," he shifted uncomfortably against the wall, cheeks pinking. "Ling must've known that Roy would care about..." Fuery trailed off, unsure exactly what his leader cared about. They had all remembered, if never mentioned, the two weeks following the inauguration. Despite the achievement of his life-goal and the highest position of power in Amestris, Roy Mustang had been miserable. Their longtime friend and superior had worked himself so ragged, even Hawkeye suggested he take a day off. He had merely leveled her a look, eyes burning, and returned to scrawling messy signatures on a veritable mountain of paperwork.

It wasn't until Ed's first letter, abrupt and rude as the man himself, that anyone had connected the dots.

The month had been long, the volume of paperwork had steadily grown until it had tripled, and sleep had long become a distant recollection. Despite Roy's new workaholic streak, those who had remained in the man's office frequently found themselves working around the clock. That day, they had cajoled and teased, or in Riza's case threatened with a casual hand brushing against her ever-present gun, until he had finally relented.

Roy had relaxed in the upbeat atmosphere of the bar. Eventually. After several alcoholic drinks that Hawkeye genially allowed. Sometime after, Havoc had chortled, and dug clumsily through Breda's jacket pocket. "You won't believe what I got in the mail today..." He chewed more vigorously on his cigarette, perplexed. "I coulda sworn it was in here."

Breda slapped Havoc's hand away. "You idiot, other pocket." Obviously, Breda was not cognitively better off at this point.

Comprehension dawned as Havoc turned and started searching through Falman's jacket pocket. Then, he seemed to notice his own, identical blue uniform draped casually over the back of his chair and he seized the poor thing with unholy glee. An undetermined time later, although Breda had finished his current drink and already started on another one...his sixth? or was it seventh?, he produced a rather grubby envelope, stained with what might be anything from coffee to dried blood. "Ed's!" he declared, not seeming to notice as Roy paled and made an aborted motion to grab at the envelope.

Breda captured it instead, and unceremoniously pulled several crumpled papers out. A photograph fluttered to the floor, and Roy finally managed to maneuver unsteady fingers to grasp the edges.

He stared at the photo for several long moments, not seeming to notice Breda's extraordinarily loud diction that temporarily silenced the chatter of the bar.

Then, with an abrupt flurry of movement, he snatched the paper from the laboriously reading man, and quickly strode out of the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

Roy laced gloved fingers together, and rested his chin upon the rough fabric. Ling's tears had stopped as abruptly and silently as they came; he now knotted the handkerchief in complicated twists, seemingly unconsciously, as he returned to his thorough perusal of the patterned wood in the Fuhrer's office.

Back to business then. "When did you last see him?" Perhaps a bit abrupt, but the prince needed no coddling, at least not from him.

Ling ducked his head to the Gregorian knot in his lap and quietly mumbled, "Down south, I think. I don't really know."

Roy's voice came out sharp-edged and incredulous, "How can you not know?"

The Xingese's eyes widened a bit, as if surprised to see the mess of cloth clutched within both long-fingered hands, and his words became a near inaudible murmur, "It gets fuzzy after...we argued...I think I might have been drinking..."

Eye's closing briefly, the Fuhrer reminded himself that immolating foreign dignitaries would likely cause, if not war, then demands of concessions Amestris could ill afford and would likely not solve any of the pressing issues. Although it would give him great personal satisfaction, such are the sacrifices made by leaders.

"So in all probability, he was down south. Why are you searching for him in Central?"

"I don't- I thought you'd help search for him."

There was a beat of silence. "You thought right. However, practically speaking, I can only search in an extremely limited manner. Edward is no longer part of the military, and I cannot be seen catering to the Xingese dignitary. You would have been better off contacting Al..." An image of the wrench-wielding maniac, which poor, innocent Al had tied himself to, flashed through his mind. Yes, definitely better off.

The panicked dart of eyes to Roy's face could have been prompted by similar, if less gleefully homicidal, thoughts of death by mechanical tool. But Ling's voice betrayed none of his emotion, as he hoarsely ground out, "The flamel ring was in Central."

The train of Roy's thoughts froze momentarily. _No. That should not be possible._

"You found the flamel ring in central?"

Another flicker from Ling, another beat of silence. "...yes."

Roy gestured, an imperious flick of fingers, but Ling allowed the moment to stretch before reluctantly slipping a hand into an elaborately embroidered pocket. The metal clinked dully against the marbled top of the desk.

They both stared at the ring, innocently gleaming with reflected white-gold light, as Ling slowly drew his hand away. It was simple: a simple band of battered gold, inset with a crimson drop stone.

Something clicked in Roy's head, and cold, sickening suspicion began whirring in the back of his head. "Is there a reason you haven't contacted his brother about this?"

Ling remained fixated on the burnished metal, and jerked his head in abrupt movements. A silent no.

Roy slumped back against the cool leather of his chair. Questioning this despondent and sluggish Ling was futile. Although the man had betrayed himself multiple times, the foreigner's actions could just have well been the lingering aftereffects of drink and multiple sleepless lights.

"Come to me if you remember anything else. You should probably retire, you look exhausted."

Ling nodded mutely, gathered the ring, and silently left the room.

xxx

Havoc tentatively poked his head through the doorway, then inserted the rest of his body into the room upon seeing Roy staring absently into the flickering fire.

"How'd the interrogation go, sir?"

Roy remained in his contemplative pose, fingers steepled beneath his chin, but flicked dark eyes in Havoc's direction. "Poorly. Ling has muddled the chronology of events rather efficiently. We can only hope not deliberately, since this is the first I have heard of the disappearance."

Havoc sucked in a shocked breath. "You think Ling did it?"

Roy grimaced. "Its a very real possibility."

"Uh...In all politeness, sir, are you sure you're acting objectively?"

Gloved fingers dropped, and Havoc suddenly felt the full force of the Fuhrer's gaze.

"Yes." It was amazing how icy a word could be, and the fire dimmed abruptly as if to accommodate the sudden chill. "Loathe as I am to admit it, Ling has an extraordinary grasp on politics. The fact that he contacted me first, rather than Ed's brother, speaks volumes. He _knows _the limits of my ability, and the fact that he chose the path that restricts what I can do..."

At Havoc's rather bewildered stare, Roy chuckled, a raspy, humorless rattle against the thick air. "Sorry, Jean. In simpler terms, had Ling gone to Al, who undoubtedly then contacted me, I could have acted much more efficiently. Instead, the chose perhaps the most public way to request help. Now, I cannot be seen overtly aiding in the search without seeming to cater to the Xing prince."

He sighed, and returned to the somber fire. "Have Feury dig up whatever he can on Ling's marriage contract. Contact Madame Christmas and have her keep an ear open...much as I would like to send troops to scour the city, I'm afraid we're back to the old team." Another mirthless laugh. "Good old times, eh?"

"Great to feel young again." Havoc grinned weakly back, before saluting rather sloppily and exiting the room.

xxx

Ling sat rather despondently on an elaborately coloured bedspread. A slender finger traced the vivid scale on a silk koi painstakingly embroidered onto a field of cobalt blue.

He flinched. But his expression soon evened out into serene control as his eyes darkened to the black of deep caves. With precise, graceful movements, he soon crossed the room and began changing out of the vibrant robes into a more somber ensemble; clothes that permitted freedom of movement on dark rooftops.

xxx

The thud of feet landing lightly woke Ed from a rather pleasant dream involving cheese, an alchemy circle, and the glorious feeling of sunlight playing across bare skin. He mumbled a halfhearted growl of irritation before rolling over, only to be brought short as his body refused to move.

Eyes flying open in panic, he saw that the world managed to turn a rather dull, uniform shade of deep blue since he last was in it. _Damn._

A couple tugs later, he ascertained that _yes,_ he was securely tied with at least two broken ribs and a sprained shoulder. _Double-damn._

He jerked instinctively, growl rising to his throat, as a light touch ghosted down his face. "What the fuck. Who are you?"

Silence.

"Answer me damn you. Its not like I don't know you're there."

Still no response.

"God. What the _fuck_ is wrong with you. I mean, you have to want something right?"

A light tapping on his nose, which he ducked from, only to come up short against his physical design flaw. The unseen finger persisted though, and again resumed the tapping. Which had a pattern. Tap. Tap. Hold. Tap-

"MORSE CODE. FOR GODS SAKE CAN'T YOU TALK?!"

**yes**

"This is aggravating."

**i no talk.**

"I concluded that by now, imbecile."

**you tied up. talk nicer.**

"Yes. Congratulations on that. Really appreciate being blindfolded and tied to a chair. Lovely way to wake up."

There was a huff of air, which arguably might have been laughter, and his oppressor lightly patted him on the head. Which he growled at.

**I leave.**

"What. No. I don't even know what the fuck you want."

**time later**

"Argh. People will worry. You don't want people to worry. Bad things happen when Al worries." He was repeating himself. Odd. Even though he wasn't the most coherent of people, his thoughts tended to be less repetitive than this.

A light thump greeted his words, as if a man had dropped from a second story building down to the ground. Ed groaned, then began wriggling earnestly.

Half an hour later, the sprained shoulder began protesting in earnest. However, it was only when he felt an odd dampness trickling down his arms did he stop. Ed swore quietly and dropped his chin down. The bastard had tied him rather effectively, and he allowed himself a moment of grudging respect. The man had even ensured that both palms could never contact each other with a bit of ingenious wood planking separating the handcuffs.

Which really didn't narrow down the suspect list. He had hardly been...discreet with his unique alchemic ability.

He sighed, and settled for a night of restlessness.

**AN: **The morse code man is not mentally retarded. The rather simple language is simply a restraint of being forced to spell out each word.

I hope Roy's explanation made sense. I'm never sure when I'm making leaps of logic and deductions if other people follow.

And ff just turned the fic into one massive paragraph. Aggravation.


End file.
